


His Last Vow

by Manysidesofmyself



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Grief, Love Confessions, M/M, kind of cheating!John, mentions of Mary but she's not in the fic, pinning!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manysidesofmyself/pseuds/Manysidesofmyself
Summary: John makes a vow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is set right after Sherlock sets Mary up in HLV and they "interrogate" her as a client.

Sherlock was sitting quietly in his armchair, actually a bit afraid to speak, since Mary left the flat, because John was pacing around like a maniac with a look of pure wrath upon his dark blue eyes.

He wanted to say he’s sorry, that he didn’t think it through, that he could’ve, _should’ve_ remained silent about his real shooter, but those words would be pitiful lies. Sherlock wasn’t glad to cause John pain, but he was very glad to have had clarified who Mary really was. In his defense, he did try to make her look like the hero in the end, but there was nothing he could do after John heard from her mouth that she had shot Sherlock and would do it again if he got in her way. That John could _never_ forgive.

Sherlock was keen to make peace between the two of them, but only because he thought that was what _John_ wanted, to be in good terms with his wife. Was it, though? He couldn’t figure it out, but by the way his (ex?)flatmate’s footsteps sounded like an angry elephant, stomping stubbornly to stand his ground, he started to doubt that was the case.

Tired, he sat down on his armchair and gazed intently at Sherlock, who was now analyzing every single move he made in order to deduce when was the best time to actually say something. He didn’t find a clue.

John got up again, matching his unsettled motions with his unsettled feelings.

Sherlock only followed with his eyes, worried and impatient.

 _Why did I do this...? Why did I tell him who she really was...?_ he thought, analyzing his own feelings towards the situation. He knew John could be in danger, but was that all his motivation? Was that the _real_ reason behind his 'heroic' exposure of said shooter?

"John..."

"Sherlock..."

They spoke in unison, turning to face each other.

Both sighed heavily, knowing what was to come.

"Let me speak first." John demanded with a calmer tone.

Sherlock merely nodded.

"I was... devastated when I thought you were... you know" he cleared his throat "I couldn’t cope with the idea that... you jumped. God, you bloody _jumped in front of my eyes!"_ he raised his hands incredulously."Who does that? Who... that doesn’t matter right now. What I’m trying to say is..."

Sherlock straightened his back against the chair and blinked expectantly.

John sniffed, avoiding Sherlock’s eyes.

"Well...What I’m saying is that Mary became a very important part of my life, because I was... I had nothing else." a quiver in his hand;

Sherlock motioned to speak, but was shortly cut off.

"No. You stay quiet and let me finish." John finally looked at him. "I was so alone and when she came I thought I could finally have my life back, you know? I saw in her an opportunity to... _forget_ you."

Sherlock raised his head, more interested than ever.

"John... I’m sorry for what I did."

"Shut up! Just..." he swallowed hard, "just shut up, okay? You know this is hard for me and you know I don’t... people don’t usually like me so quickly, but with Mary..." he smiled bitterly, "Oh, with her everything was so easy... It was so easy and I should have _known_." the smile slowly vanished from his lips.

Sherlock shifted in his chair, feeling each word cut him open like sharp knives. Mary was everything. Mary was what John wanted. _Mary_ , not him. Realization sardonically sank in. While John stood there, struggling with words, as he always did, Sherlock understood why he had done it, why he unraveled Mary’s identity.

"I was so sure we could be together, that she would make me feel better..." he scoffed "and then you came back from the dead. Just like that! Ha!" he shook his head nervously. "You bloody did the unthinkable, you, Sherlock Holmes, answered my pray. You gave me my miracle."

Sherlock’s heart sunk in his chest. Mary had made John move on, forget about him. He couldn’t have that. He simply couldn’t let Mary take John away and when he found what he needed, he used it and it was bliss to see John’s face when she said the words, but it was also painful once he realized how John broke down in front of them. It wasn’t so funny anymore and then he had to make up for John, he had to try and make things right again. It hurt, it bloody killed him to try and amend the perfect plan, to make Mary look like the hero.

"You... you were alive and you shifted things again, you took the tracks under my feet and it was chaos... a chaos I so desperately missed." John confessed contrictly. "But I was happy, Sherlock, I was content with the way my life had turned, I was living a nice, quiet life with the person I thought I loved and then..."

John pressed his lips in a firm line, squinting his eyes to stop the tears.

Sherlock finally got up, walking to where John was, musing putting a hand on his shoulder, which he never actually did.

"I... I had to, John. I had to know you were safe, I had to make sure Mary wouldn’t hurt you. I couldn’t stand..." he paused, concealing whatever was about to come out, "I’m sorry if I ruined everything for you. I never should’ve said anything."

He lowered his eyes and turned around.

"You... BASTARD! You really haven’t the foggiest idea, do you?" John shouted, eyes widened at Sherlock. "You’re so completely, utterly consumed by your hero complex, you’re so grounded in your logic and the stupid facts, you can’t even see it, can you?"

Sherlock was thoroughly confused now. Why was John so furious, suddenly?

"I... what? I’m sorry, what did I do now?" he asked hurriedly, turning again to face John.

John took two large steps until his wamrth seeped into Sherlock's clothes.

Sherlock took the time to see through John’s demeanor. His eyes were wide open, but not from surprise, maybe expectation? Also they were searching Sherlock’s. His jaw was projected forward, so: angry, but his mouth was partially opened and he was slightly out of breath. Certainly from the shouting, but there was something else. So, angry, but not particularly at him?

\- What did I miss? - Sherlock finally asked, his words filled with double meaning even to himself.

_Everything._

Sherlock thought about the truth. The solid, constant, inexorable truth. He loved John Watson. He had been in love with him since that first day and since that first day, he had been a complete and utter  _idiot!_

"I regret it, that’s all." he said softly, looking at his feet.

Sherlock was stuck. Yes, it took him some time to realize his feelings for John, but was he too late? John did show signs of affection during their years together. Could it have been more? Could it still be more now?

"You regret... my coming back?" he tried.

"No." John scowled. "I don’t regret you coming back... I never wanted you to be dead in the first place, of course I don’t regret that."

 _Then what does he regret?_ Something was coming, Sherlock knew.

"Tell me John, what is it?" he demanded. "Do you regret our friendship? Do you regret coming to live with me? Do you regret meeting me?" he blurted out, palms sweating.

"NO!" John yelled perplexed. "I DON’T FUCKING REGRET MEETING YOU!" without warning the words started to pour from his mouth. "The only bloody thing I regret is that I had no time to say the things I wanted to say! I got married and now I regret it! I regret meeting Mary and having her ruin our lives! I regret that you faked your death and that it lead me to search for somebody else to cover the huge hole you left in my life! I regret that you came back and it was already too late and then I regretted that I found out my _perfect_ wife wasn’t as nearly as perfect as I thought and that because of her, we drifted apart... I regret not saying, Sherlock Holmes, that _I bloody love you_!

John was panting and blushing and Sherlock thought he might be dreaming.

After a milisecond his brain caught up with what was happening and he finally, finally could breathe. He lost no time showing John exactly how he felt about that, connecting their mouths in a lascivious kiss. John didn't kiss back at first, maybe registering himself what was happening, but then he let out the softest of gasps and melted into Sherlock's lips. They kissed and it was like their lives were being cleansed of all the wrong doing, all the heartbreak and loss.

"Sher..." John said, his voice muffled, his hands clung to Sherlock's back like he needed him to live.

Sherlock couldn't believe John had loved him back, he couldn't believe how lucky he was. His arms wound around John and he swore to himself he would never let him go. He would do anything, anything at all to keep John.

John pulled away genty, holding their faces close. "You made a vow." he croaked. "You swore you'd always be there, for us. For me."

"Yes." Sherlock breathed.

"It's my turn to make a vow, then." John's face was serious. "I vow, Sherlock Holmes, that I will give you all of me. I vow that you shall never be alone as long as there is breath in my lungs and blood in my veins. I vow I'll love you until this world ends and even after that. I vow to be yours, always, as long as you want me."

Sherlock's lips were trembling, so John kissed them again and again and again until they couldn't think, until they couldn't dicern where one of them started and the other ended. John's vow made him weak and strong at the same time, made him ascend to heaven, if such a thing even existed. Made him believe there was a god, because how else could anyone explain this miracle on Earth?

"I vow that my soul shall always find yours, until the end of times." Sherlock answered when he finally found his voice.

John smiled into his mouth and Sherlock knew, he would never be happier than that.

 


End file.
